Silken Threads

by Barrie, Monica

  Cassandra finished tying her sneakers and stood. She walked to the window and peered out into the early dawn. The sun had not yet risen in the gray-blue sky.

  Cassandra adjusted the top to her rust-colored jogging suit and went into the kitchen to check on the automatic coffee maker she’d started before dressing.

  The aroma of coffee greeted her when she stepped into the sunny kitchen set in one corner of the suite, complete with gas oven, range, and a nice-size refrigerator, which was separated from the range by a counter with a stainless-steel sink. The two café-curtained windows made the room seem larger than it really was.

  In the center of the kitchen was a butcher-block table with four ladder-back chairs. A telephone extension was on the wall behind the table, and the white tile floor added more brightness to the room.

  Cassandra poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. She tried to concentrate on preparing herself for her first day of work but found her mind wandering. Not even the sounds of the ranch coming to life were able to pull her from her thoughts.

  Finishing her coffee, Cassandra realized today marked the second day of her future, and the beginning of her test. “I will not fail,” she whispered, repeating the litany that had become so much a part of her.

  She glanced at her watch. Five forty-five. Fifteen minutes until she was to meet Kirk and begin her first day of work. Cassandra rose and poured herself another cup of coffee. As she did, she looked out the window.

  She saw the ranch hands leaving the dining hall. They all looked alike, dressed in jeans and light cotton shirts. They all wore boots, and several of the men wore riding chaps. All of them wore cowboy hats.

  One in particular caught Cassandra’s attention. It was the ranch hand’s walk. It was different. The ranch hand was shorter, too. A moment later, the cowboy took off his hat, and Cassandra’s cup wavered at her mouth. The ranch hand wasn’t a cowboy—it was a woman.

  When she’d taken her hat off, Cassandra saw a thick bounty of shoulder-length red hair sparkle in the morning sun.

  “Well, I’ll be….”

  Kirk had never mentioned a woman worked as a ranch hand.

  There were a lot of things Kirk had not mentioned, Cassandra thought as she placed her cup in the sink and started out. She was not about to be late on her first day. Kirk would be waiting for her in front of the house.

  Passing a mirror, Cassandra stopped to check herself over. The jogging suit was comfortable and casual, and her sneakers matched it well. She’d pulled her long hair back and clipped it at the crown of her head, where she hoped it would stay for the rest of the day.

  Satisfied that she was dressed reasonably well for a ranch, Cassandra left the apartment and walked through the still-empty house. The office staff would not be in until eight, Kirk had told her.

  Stepping out into the early morning sunlight, she looked around for Kirk and found him standing ten feet away. “Good morning,” she called, feeling a pleasant warmth at the sight of his tall, strong body, encased within a pair of snug-fitting jeans that accented the leanness of his abdomen and outlined his muscular thighs. His shirt, a light denim, showed off the wide breadth of his chest.

  “Hopefully,” Kirk responded as he looked her over. He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “We’re going on a ground tour of the ranch, you know.”

  “Of course I know. I’m not senile.”

  Kirk tried to keep the exasperation he felt out of his voice. “Cassandra, this is a ranch, not a resort. I think you should put on a pair of boots.”

  “Boots?” she asked, puzzled by his request. “Why?”

  “You can manage in that fancy running suit, but your ankles are going to get very sore if you wear sneakers,” he explained tolerantly, trying to maintain a high level of patience.

  “Why should sneakers make me sore?”

  “Because there’s no protection. The stirrups will rub your skin raw without boots.”

  “Stirrups?” she whispered, his words striking her with the force of a tornado. Within her tight stomach, the old familiar twisting, sickening sensations began.

  “Yes, stirrups. They’re part of the saddle. They help you stay on your horse,” he said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I told you we’re going to see the ranch from the ground today. Our horses are saddled and ready.” Cassandra tried to speak but failed. The coffee that had felt so warm and good only a few minutes before, was rapidly turning sour in her stomach. Her neck tightened, and she could feel the beginning of a tension-induced headache. She had to find a way out. She had to!

  Looking around, Cassandra saw the same vehicle Kirk had driven to the ranch in, a Land Rover. Summoning up her resolve, Cassandra finally spoke. “Horses,” she said, shaking her head. “I would just as soon be comfortable.” Fear made her voice sound imperious. “We’ll take that,” she stated, pointing to the vehicle.

  Kirk stared at her, at the strange tightness of her features, even as he fought to hold back his anger. However, as she spoke in her distant and arrogant manner, Kirk felt his understanding of her diminish, the understanding he had so carefully cultivated over the past thirty-six hours.

  He made himself hold back his first angry retort and even kept up his now forced smile. “Of course,” he said through clenched teeth, “we wouldn’t want you to get dirty.” Kirk turned and strode stiffly to the jeep. Cassandra wanted to call out, to explain what had happened, but she couldn’t. If she did, he would see how frightened she was. She couldn’t let him.

  Pretending his words had not bothered her, Cassandra walked to the Land Rover, opened the door, and got in. Before she closed the door, Kirk had pressed down the accelerator, and dirt and gravel spewed from beneath the rear wheels. Cassandra said nothing.

  Here we go again.

  ~~~~

  For Cassandra, the next four days passed in a whirlwind of activity and hostility as she continued to insist Kirk use the Land Rover to show her the ranch.

  From the first morning, when she’d refused to ride the horses, Kirk had once again changed. He didn’t revert to the angry, acerbic man she’d first met, but he was a far cry from the warm and friendly companion of that wonderful night in Wyoming; rather, he’d become a distant, standoffish person who replied to all her questions succinctly, never volunteering a word more than was necessary.

  He used no sarcasm; he offered no extra help. That he tolerated her was obvious; that he disliked her was a concrete fact, brought home with every glance of his steely, chiseled, and immobile features.

  Yet not once, as he indoctrinated her into the workings of the ranch, did he ever lose his patience. His voice was always calm, his manner cool and efficient. During every minute Cassandra spent with him, she felt the distance grow between them. At times, she wanted to scream, to yell and to tell him she was only human. Nevertheless, she made herself act the way he did—cool and detached. Cassandra knew this front was a defense, but she believed she had no choice.

  By the third day, Cassandra acknowledged she’d made a mistake, knowing every article of clothing she’d brought was useless. She had driven into town and gone shopping at a western clothing store, where she bought everything she would need, from boots to hats. She’d spent a small fortune, and although her father had cut off her credit cards, she had her own bank account and the first week’s salary from work to draw on.

  When she’d returned to the ranch, she brought the packages upstairs and put the clothing away. She now owned an appropriate wardrobe. The next morning, she’d seen the briefest flicker of animation in Kirk’s face when she’d shown up in jeans, a plaid shirt, and her new boots.

  He hadn’t said a word. At noon, after they’d returned from the north range where Kirk had shown Cassandra the fence work, he suggested she change out of the boots.

  “Why?”

  “New boots have to be broken in. After a couple of hours, you’ll start getting blisters.”

  Accepting his advice, Cassandra changed into her
sneakers for the rest of the day. Her feet were fine, and she had been grateful for his suggestion. When they’d reached the main house and she’d thanked him, all he’d done was nod his head.

  By the end of the day, when he’d dropped her off at the main house, the tension was thick between them. Before she could walk to the house, Kirk spoke.

  “I’ve called a meeting for eight o’clock,” he told her.

  “For what?”

  “To formally introduce you to your ranch hands.”

  “Where?”

  “The dining hall.”

  “I’ll be there at eight.” With that, Cassandra turned her back on him and went into the house.

  ~~~~

  Cassandra had eaten a light supper alone, as she had done every night since her arrival at Twin Rivers, and was trying to relax before going to the meeting.

  She knew that she faced a test with the ranch hands, and braced herself for the meeting.

  She had already noticed, from time to time, when Kirk had driven her past the employees, the way their eyes had followed her.

  The phone’s ring shattered her thoughts and, reaching out, she picked up the receiver. “Yes?”

  “Good evening, Cassie.”

  Cassandra tensed. “Hello, Father.”

  “How are things?”

  I haven’t run away, she wanted to say. “Everything is going well,” she replied instead.

  “I’m glad to hear that. You know I worry about you,” Gregory Leeds stated.

  Cassandra’s lips, drawn as tightly as a bowstring, showed her anger plainly. Yet her father, thousands of miles away, could not see them.

  “Do you, Father? Or are you worrying about the Barwell merger?”

  “That’s unkind, Cassie. I only called to see if you were settled in.”

  “You said you required monthly progress reports. It’s only been three days. I’ll call you in twenty-seven days, Father.”

  “Cassandra, if I told you I wished you luck, would you accept it?”

  Cassandra remembered the many times when she had been growing up, and she’d heard her father talking with his executives, teaching them. ‘Make your opposition trust you. Weaken them, not with flattery, but with openness. Make them believe you are sympathetic to them, but remember, when you deal with others, they’re your enemy. Think of them that way. Always protect yourself. ’It was one of Gregory Leeds’ philosophies, and Cassandra knew better than to trust him.

  “Cassandra?” her father asked after the long silence.

  “No, Father, I can’t. I’m your daughter; I know you.”

  “No, Cassie, you used to know me. He paused for a moment. “Very well, I’ll speak to you in twenty-seven days. Good night,” he said.

  Cassandra, her eyes blurring, hung up the phone without another word. She shouldn’t have said that to him, she knew, but she hadn’t been able to stop the words. She should have played along with him, let him believe she was just a lonely, spoiled little girl, but she couldn’t. Not anymore.

  Her father’s phone call disturbed her greatly. She could hear the gloating in his voice and knew he was waiting for her to throw in the towel. “Give up!” was what his tone said even as he had wished her luck.

  Standing, Cassandra began to pace within the confines of the room. So much was happening to her all at once, and she was having a harder and harder time coping.

  For too many years, Cassandra had run away from her troubles and problems. She had been running since she was nine. Running from what? she asked herself. From fear? She knew it wasn’t simply her fear, but what it was she didn’t know.

  I used to be so happy, she thought, gazing at her new surroundings. It was true, at least until the accident. That was when her life had changed. The fear caused by the accident was part of it, but there was more. She had lost her will to do things and had become satisfied with whatever was easiest.

  School had been a joke. She had breezed through the prestigious private school and through college without really trying. She had a great memory, not eidetic but close, which saved her many long hours of study.

  After dropping out of college, she had found herself listlessly wandering around the world, caught up in the frenetic pace of her wealthy friends. Her father denied her nothing, and gave her whatever she asked for, except for the things she really needed, the things money couldn’t buy.

  Here at Twin Rivers she found herself unprepared for reality. She had thought it would be easy to take over a company and prove herself to her father. After all, she was not only a quick study, but she was Gregory Leeds’ daughter.

  Only it wasn’t working out well. The people who surrounded her now didn’t know her and acted as if she didn’t belong here, although her father owned the ranch and paid their salaries.

  At last, Cassandra stopped pacing as a new thought intruded into her troubled mind. Not only do I have to prove myself to my father, but I have to prove myself to them, too, she realized. It’s not fair!

  Suddenly aware of the time, Cassandra calmed her troubled thoughts and went to the mirror to check her clothing one last time. She was more than satisfied with her appearance. She wore a pair of tan denims with a yellow checked shirt tucked neatly into the waistband. She had her boots on, which raised her height another two inches. Her dark pulled back hair accenting the smooth angles of her lightly made-up face.

  Then she willed her walls of defense to stay strong before she turned and left the apartment to face the inevitable. When she reached the dining hall, she saw it filled with ranch hands.

  The moment she entered, every eye turned in her direction. Ignoring the stares, Cassandra kept her head straight and proud and walked to where Kirk stood. When she reached him and sat in the chair next to his, Kirk rose and the room fell silent.

  Conscious that all the hands were now staring openly at her, Cassandra looked up at Kirk. She wished she hadn’t, because she saw a shadowy smile on his full lips that told her he was enjoying himself tonight. The moment he spoke, she knew the truth of her observation. Without ceremony, he introduced her.

  “Listen up,” Kirk called in a loud voice. The hands turned their attention from Cassandra to Kirk. “As most of you know, there’s a new face on the ranch.” Kirk paused and glanced down at Cassandra before he continued. His eyes bored into hers.

  “Miss Cassandra Leeds is a vice president of Leeds International and is now in charge of the Twin Rivers Corporation. Miss Leeds,” he said as he abruptly finished and sat down.

  Cassandra rose, moistening her lips as she did, and looked out at what seemed to be an endless sea of unfriendly faces. In that instant, when she saw their expressions, she knew they thought her to be the company’s watchdog.

  She spoke quickly, her voice tinged with the same protective imperiousness she had used toward Kirk since her arrival.

  “I hope that I will soon get to meet each of you individually. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to come to me.” As she spoke, she saw the look of disdain on many of their faces. Then she tried to single out one friendly face, and settled on making eye contact with the female ranch hand, whose name she had learned was Jane Paulson. While although there was no disdain on her face, her eyes were as unfriendly as the rest.

  After her short speech, she sat down and waited until the meeting ended and everyone except Kirk was gone.

  “That was a nasty thing to do,” she snapped.

  “Nasty? I just introduced you to your employees.”

  “It was the way you did it.”

  “That’s my way, Miss Leeds,” he said, his eyes looking straight through her.

  “I told you once you won’t scare me off. Don’t try so hard,” she advised him in an icy whisper.

  “All I want to do, Miss Leeds, is my job—”

  “Then do it!” she snapped angrily.

  “And,” he continued in a level voice, “I think I’ve spent enough time familiarizing you with the operation.”

  “Yes, you h
ave,” Cassandra replied stiffly.

  “Thank you. If you need me tomorrow, I’ll be at the corral. We’ve got horses to break.”

  Cassandra stared at him for a moment. “I thought there weren’t any horses to sell this year.”

  “We lost a lot, but we still have about thirty head. Good night, Miss Leeds,” he said as he stood and started out.

  “We aren’t enemies, Kirk,” Cassandra shouted before he reached the door.

  Kirk turned, his taut face shadowed by the uneven light at the doorway. “We aren’t friends, either,” he replied in a very low voice as he turned and walked out.

  “What are we?” Cassandra asked the closed door, trying to understand what was making Kirk act the way he was.

  Chapter Eight

  Kirk sat on the high-backed chair, his eyes half closed, the rise and fall of his chest barely visible. It was late, almost midnight, but he couldn’t sleep. Too many unanswered questions plagued him. Too many unsolvable problems haunted him when they shouldn’t.

  Who was Cassandra Leeds? Why did she affect him so strongly? Why did he care what she thought, felt, or even did with her life?

  The problem was, he did care. There was another problem, too—the Leeds Corporation. Why were they so complacent with their losses? Why did they reward people who lost money for them? There had to be a reason, and Kirk wanted to know exactly what it was. He had invested too much time, effort, and care in Twin Rivers to have it yanked away from him by the random whims of corporate executives.

  Through his narrowed eyes, Kirk saw the light in Cassandra’s bedroom go out. Except for the times he had driven her around the ranch, she had avoided any contact with him. She had even avoided coming into his office when she’d had a question about paperwork; instead, she’d used the intercom.

  “You won’t scare me off,” she’d told him earlier. It was the second time she’d used that particular phrase. Was there something she was afraid of? Kirk wondered. Something he couldn’t see.

  Kirk thought about the night in Wyoming when he’d sensed her loneliness and frustration. Had he been wrong about her then also? Was she just playing a game with him, making a fool of him? Or had she told him the truth about the bargain she’d made with her father?